


Somewhere to Begin

by TriplePirouette



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She looked up at him, wide, blue eyes quickly filling with tears. Her hand slipped to fist at her cheek as she spoke, the words soft and trembling. “I don't think I can do this anymore.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere to Begin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teamequitas](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=teamequitas).



> AN- For my lovely Secret Santa teamequitas. I hope you enjoy this, dear. The prompt was “the place only we know” so the title was taken from the Keane song “Somewhere Only We Know,” which initially came to mind. I know I asked about writing you smut, and I was ready to write a scene, but the Rumbelle muse changed her mind. I hope I don't disappoint. 
> 
> Thanks a MILLION to my lovely beta K.L. Hufflepuff, who makes my work infinitely better, and who gave me an AMAZING beta job on this in less than 24 hours.

He followed her into the forest, leaving the stares of those on the edge of town in favor of the shelter of the impartial trees. She wobbled in her heels, her black skirt flowing behind her as she nearly broke into a run, her fingers leaving the safety of his grasp. Her hair bounced over her shoulder, her figure tipped and faltered. His heart pounded, watching his beauty run from him, the sunlight filtering through the trees and casting dark shadows across her. “Belle!” he called, stumbling after her, cursing his bad knee. His cane slipped on the mossy forest floor, but it didn't stop him from following as quickly as he could.

 

She was a good few yards ahead of him, and he had to yell for her to hear. “Belle! Slow down, sweetheart.”

 

She stopped dead, swaying as her momentum left her. Her head fell low, her back to him. She didn't move, didn't even fidget, just rocked her ankles in an attempt to keep her heels from punching through the soft ground.

 

He finally caught up to her, his breath coming in great gasps. His hand slipped over her shoulder, the soft cardigan warm against his fingertips. “I'm not as nimble as you used to know me, darling.”

 

She tried to laugh, but a sob came out instead and she stifled it with a quick hand to her mouth. Her voice was dark, a hint of the past they still had to work through tangled up in the truth of her words. “You never came after me before.”

 

He came around her, concern written across his face, all thoughts of joking lightness gone. “Belle?”

 

She looked up at him, wide, blue eyes quickly filling with tears. Her hand slipped to fist at her cheek as she spoke, the words soft and trembling. “I don't think I can do this anymore.”

 

He felt the moment his heart broke, felt it deep in the pit of his stomach. He tried not to let his disappointment show, but he knew that it did. He forced a stoic mask on, but knew she'd seen the sadness first.

 

One too many times. It had been just one too many stares.

 

_They paused at the corner, waiting for the crossing signal even without any traffic on the street. A warm wind rushed by, causing her curls to bounce across her face and his hair to slip into his eyes. His hands gently brushed hers behind her ears as she giggled, her short nails picking strands of hair from his eyelashes. He couldn't have pictured a better moment, standing beneath a warm fall sun with the one he loved, watching her eyes shine with the emotion as he held her._

 

_But Belle's eyes shifted over his shoulder and her face turned stony. “What?” she asked, peering around his shoulder to the middle aged woman staring at them. The woman pursed her lips and turned back to the intersection, but after a moment turned back. The woman, grey haired but stately, looked back and forth between them for a second before she leaned over to Belle, her voice quiet and conspiratorial. “Do you know who that is?”_

 

_Belle stared at her, wide eyed. The woman asked in earnest, and it caught her off guard. “You mean my boyfriend?” Belle laughed, and Rumpel could do naught but stand tall, still holding her hand as Belle stepped away from him and toward the woman. “Are you asking me if I know who my boyfriend, my true love, is?”_

 

_The woman bristled, her mouth setting in a stern manner. “My dear, he's probably lied to a pretty young thing such as yourself...”_

 

_Belle stopped laughing and stepped back to Rumpel's side, wrapping her arm around his back and standing tall next to him. “You mean my boyfriend, Rumpelstiltskin? The Dark One? I can tell you right now, I know exactly the kind of man he is.” He watched, amazed but sone-faced, as his Belle met the curious eyes of every person staring at them. There was the grocer, his hands full of radishes that were slowly spilling from between his fingers. Archie watched from across the street, Pongo pulling at his leash. Swan and Charming were in the doorway to the Sheriff's station one building down, Swan's hand sitting on the gun she wore with a grim line set in her mouth. Charming, for his part, was at least smiling._

 

“ _Well, I'm sure you don't.” The woman's mutter was low and dark, a tone Rumpelstiltskin wasn't unused to hearing when people said his name. Belle, however, was._

 

_Her chin quivered with rage, with the desire to say something, but she didn't. She held her tongue and watched as the woman crossed when the signal turned. Belle didn't move when he turned toward the street to cross, instead taking his hand and turning toward the way they'd come, walking tall and stoically through the town, past the park and to the tree line._

 

He knew what was coming, and wanted to scream and swing his cane against the bark of the trees. He wanted that woman's blood spattered across the pavement. He'd tried, so very hard, to find the best of himself and give it to the woman who somehow, some way, appeared to love him. It seemed, however, that the scorn of those around them was starting to settle on her shoulders, to change her mind.

 

All magic came with a price, and his price seemed to be losing Belle.

 

His fingers squeezed reflexively. “I understand,” he choked out, his voice low and dark. He forced himself to let go of her shoulder, to move his feet and limp back toward civilization, to leave her be.

 

Her hand closed tight around his wrist before he got even two steps away. “Where are you going?” she blurted, fear bright in her eyes.

 

He pressed his shoulders back, stature helping him keep some facade of calm. “I won't kill her. Unless that's what you want. I won't.”

 

Belle shook her head, clutching tightly at his wrist. He wished she'd let it go, let it drop so he wouldn't feel the warmth of her through his cuff, the softness of her fingertips against the edge of his skin. “I don't want you to hurt anyone.” Her eyebrows knit together and her voice floated a soft, confused melody. “But, where are you going?”

 

He could stand it no more and let his cane rest against his leg as he lifted her hand from his wrist. He squeezed it gently before letting it go. “I won't stay where I'm not wanted.”

 

He turned away, moving as quickly as he could through the brush.

 

Belle was faster, even wobbling in her heels. She jogged up to him and around until she blocked his path, wrapping her grey cardigan- _actually his cardigan-_ tight around her. He looked at the sweater, wondering if he should demand it back, then remembered the feel of it in his hands as he and Charming and Ruby had searched for her.

 

It looked better on her anyway, with the white shirt and tea length black skirt and the little kitten heels that she'd started wearing. The sweater looked far better on her than it did sitting unused in his closet.

 

She stepped into his space, breaking his wandering thoughts with a hand against his chest and a stern face. “Who said you weren't wanted?”

 

He huffed, lost and frustrated as he took a step back, a sneer coming across his face as his hand gestured wildly between them. “You can't keep changing your mind, Belle.” Pain slipped across his features and he was unable to stop it. “You just said you couldn't do _this_ anymore.” His hand gestured back and for between them with every 'this,' “ _This_ is one of the few things I have left. I can't get to Bae, my power is unpredictable, and the only thing that reminds me of who I was, who I wanted to be anymore, is you.”

 

His anger left him, and he stepped closer. “I'll eat hamburgers every day, hold my tongue with every rude barb that comes to mind. Parade myself in front of every person that's made a poor choice when it came to deals with me. But I need you to decide.”

 

Belle's frustration melted, a soft, sad smile coming across her face as her hands fell to his shoulders. She licked her lips, eyes shining with some secret mirth. “You, Rumpelstiltskin, and _this,_ between us, are most definitely wanted.” She sighed softly, cupping his jaw. “What I can't do...” She choked up, lips pursing and nose scrunching as she looked away to search for the words. Her eyes found his again with a soft tilt to her head. “No matter where we go, there are people.” She set her jaw, frustration oozing from every pore. “When I'm alone, they smile and say hello. When I'm with you, there's pity or hate in their eyes.”

 

“I'm used to it, Belle,” he whispered, the backs of his knuckles sliding over her cheek, “everyone's always looked upon me in derision for one reason or another. I created that persona for myself.”

 

She shook her head, a laugh sliding out in a bark. “The Dark One.” She nodded and then shook her head almost violently. “But that's not who you really are, and I know that. Even Granny still looks at you with such frustration and hate.”

 

He cupped her jaw, his heart pounding. Though she said he was wanted, he still wasn't sure. The feel of her fingers on his shoulders, her right hand slowly moving to twist in the ends of his hair, gave him a sense of calm, though. “History, sweetheart. It's hard to overcome.”

 

She smiled sadly, looking right into his eyes. “We're so much better when it's just the two of us. You don't hide your smile or your jokes, and I don't have to pretend to not see the sad and scathing looks.” Her hand grasped the back of his neck tightly, her words vehement. “They have no right to judge us.”

 

“No,” he replied sharply, sliding his arm around to hold her tight against him, “they don't.”

 

Belle let her forehead rest on his shoulder, a tiny self-deprecating laugh escaping her. “Back in your castle, there were days when I would have given anything to talk to another person, to have a friend or a servant or someone in that castle with us. Same in the Queen's prison: all I wanted was someone other than a mouse or a roach to talk with. But now? Now all I want is a place for just the two of us, where no one can see us, where I can have you all to myself.”

 

He held her close, his lips sliding small kisses across her forehead. Her words hurt, struck into the soft edge of his heart that was still raw with the thought of her held prisoner. It didn't make them any less true, though, and he wracked his brain for a way to make her feel better that didn't involve turning nosy townsfolk into snails. That would only make him feel better. “We don't have to go out, darling. My house is plenty big and you have your apartment now.”

 

She sighed, snuggling against him and slipping her arms beneath his trench coat and around his waist. Her head shook lightly. “No, It would be just as bad as Granny's. How many times has someone knocked on your door this week? I know Ruby's at my house near every night lately. Besides,” her voice hit a resigned note, tired and frustrated, “then it feels like we're sneaking around.”

 

He laughed lightly, his hand carding through her curls as he held her close. “If we're avoiding people, then I believe that's the definition of sneaking around.”

 

Her laugh was light, her head peaking up just enough so she could meet his eyes with a smirk. “You know what I mean.”

 

His lips slipped another kiss to her temple. “Indeed I do. A place that's ours, together, where no one can find us...though, again, sneaking around, love.” He laughed lightly as she squeezed him, but it died on his lips as the idea came to him. He pulled away, taking her hand gently, a smile on his lips and mischief in his eyes. “Come with me.”

 

Belle followed, picking through the underbrush carefully, but the suspicion crinkled her eyes. “Where?”

 

He stopped, kissing her softly. “A place just for us.”

 

He led her through the forest quietly, leading her through twists and turns that she couldn't have kept track of if she tried. When the log cabin came into view her eyes brightened, but she stopped, the smile slipping from her face and the emotion draining from her before he could relish in the fact that she was happy. “What?”

 

“The cabin where you took my father?” Her question was soft and sad, full of regret. “I appreciate the idea, but I can't go there, no matter how I feel about him now.”

 

Rumpel stepped closer to her, the joy draining from him quickly at her words. “It's... not ideal.” He chose his words carefully, holding her hand tightly. “But if our homes are out of the question, as is the Pawn Shop and the Library, this is all I have left.” He shook his head, turning back. “You're right, I- I can't ask you to come here.” He tugged her hand, moving back the way they came, but she didn't move.

 

She looked at him, eyes wide and hopeful. “Maybe we could... we could look for a place to buy?”

 

His heart beat heavy in his chest at the suggestion, but the rational part of his mind tamped his excitement down. “We could,” he sighed as he stepped back toward her, “but there's very little in Storybrooke that isn't already owned and we'd have to go through the only agent in town, who is a notorious gossip.”

 

Belle bit her lip, digging her heel into a patch of dirt. “It would be very public, wouldn't it?”

 

He nodded sadly. “Half the town would know where we were living before we moved in.”

 

She bit her lip, deciding if she should voice her concerns or not, her blue eyes staring bravely at him. She shook her head, forcing a smile. “I'm not really coming up with many other ideas. Building a house would be even worse, I guess.” Her nose screwed up tight, and her eyes blinked tears furiously away.

 

“I could create you a home... with magic.” His offer was tentative, and even he was unsure.

 

Belle laughed for real this time, her tears momentarily forgotten. “A whole house? I saw what happened to the clock you were playing with yesterday. Magic's still a bit unpredictable, yes?”

 

He couldn't help but laugh with her. He'd been running his magic through it's paces on a small desktop clock. Instead of levitating, the thing had animated and was currently still scampering about in his basement, playing it's own version of hide and seek. “You don't like our new pet?”

 

Her eyebrows raised at the idea, but she softened, her tongue between her teeth for a moment as she leaned into his side. “I'll call him Cogsworth.”

 

“He's not a butler, love.” He kissed her hair, thankful for the momentary reprieve.

 

“If I can teach you new tricks,” Belle dared to tap her finger in the Dark One's nose, smiling, “like how to be nice to Granny, then I can surely teach a tiny clock to answer the door and fetch the paper.”

 

He let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her, reveling in the lightness of the moment. She was right, it was so easy between them when they were alone sometimes.

 

Her voice was quiet, but burdened when she spoke again, her eyes still on the horizon. “Have you beat anyone else there?”

 

His breath caught in his throat, but he didn't move. “No.”

 

“I hate that I felt I had to ask you that.” He stepped away to look in her eyes, his reassurance unable to be voiced as she plowed ahead. “And that I had to think for a moment if you were lying.”

 

He sighed sharply, his hand reaching up to cradle her cheek. “Oh, Belle. Belle, I'm sorry that you have to wonder. That's my fault.”

 

“Yes,” she shrugged, pressing her lips together tight, a smile slipping through softly. “But we can change that, right?”

 

He leaned in and kissed her softly, her lips chapped and chilled against his. “No more secrets,” he whispered against her lips, “no more lies. Not to you.”

 

She pressed her forehead to his, clutching his neck tightly. “You've told me everything there was to tell, then, about that night? About what happened between you and my father?”

 

He kissed her again chastely, his mouth suddenly dry. “Yes.” His fingers pressed tight against her back, holding her to him. “Every moment.”

 

Belle let her nose slide against his, nuzzling his face. “I think... I think we should.”

 

“We don't have to.” He caught his breath, licking his lips as he wracked his brain for another idea... any idea. “I'll make my magic work, I'll find something...”

 

“No.” Her tone was strong and firm, the voice of the brave girl who once told him 'forever.'

 

Her refusal frightened him. “No?”

 

“If I go in there, I have to deal with what happened. The longer we pretend, the longer we don't get fixed.” She sighed, burying her face against his neck. “You know we're not fixed.”

 

“I was always the broken one, sweetheart,” he protested quietly, but her hand covered his lips.

 

“We do this together. We're good together, on our own.” She leaned back, slipping her fingers from his lips and tangling them in his tie to keep them occupied. “We're chipped,” she whispered, her eyes intent on her hands, “just like our cup. If you ignore the chips, they turn to cracks, and breaks, until there's nothing left but pieces that don't fit together anymore.” Her eyes found his, bright and hopeful. “We go, together, into this cabin with all our chips out in the open, and we just might be able to mend them, don't you think?”

 

He nodded, his cautious smile touched by the awe in his eyes for the woman before him. “Chips and all,” he murmured, reaching between them to take her hand. His eyebrows knit together. “You're cold as ice! Why didn't you say?”

 

Belle shrugged, but a small smile bloomed on her face. “I am getting a bit of a chill.”

 

With an awkward bow, Rumpel pulled away, sweeping toward the cabin with his cane. “This way, sweetheart.”

 

The walk was short, but the wind blew harshly and Belle took, quick, bouncing little strides in an effort to get out of the cold, Rumpel striding behind her, smiling at her careful exuberance. She bounced beside him as he unlocked the simple door, the light spilling in behind them to illuminate the big, open room.

 

It wasn't much, but it was far better than a busy street corner or the constant stream of people in Granny's or even in his shop nowadays. It was a wide rectangle, a tiny hallway in the back splitting off to a room on the right and a smaller one on the left, another door straight back to exit the back of the cabin. There was a dusty, outdated kitchenette in the corner, and a big fireplace that took up most of the back wall on the other side, the back of it open enough to see through to what looked like a bedroom.

 

There were a few stray, dusty pieces of furniture: a modest table and two plain, high back chairs, a fainting couch and a side table that was tipped sideways. The windows were covered with filmy curtains, but the setting sun didn't do much but illuminate the rising dust motes from the fresh gust of air in the cabin. Rumpel reached out, snapping a standing light by the door on. “It isn't much...”

 

Belle slowly turned around herself, taking in each and every nook and cranny. Her smile faltered as she saw the overturned chair in the corner, the spatter stains still on the wall. He winced, but she only took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “It's ours, chips and all.” Their eyes caught and held as she turned back to him, but the moment was broken when a shiver wound its way up her body. She shrugged at his concerned look. “I guess I'm still cold.”

 

He smiled, stepping next to her and gesturing toward the fireplace. “If you'll permit me?”

 

Belle snuck a sideways look at him under her eyelashes, trying to hide a smile as she nodded, the dark memory out of sight for the moment. With almost no gesture at all, the fireplace was sparking clean and roaring with a bright, flickering flame. She leaned against his arm, her hand curling over his on his cane. “You know, I always loved when you did that. Not all magic is bad.”

 

His thumb slipped up to caress her fingers over his. “You always did like a fire.”

 

She wrapped her arm around his, her voice wistful. “You always made them the best.”

 

They stood before the fire for as long as his leg would allow, holding close to one another and basking in the warmth before she asked him to extinguish the fire. “You want to go already?”

 

She reached out, gesturing toward the rest of the small place. “Well, there's so much to do!” Her eyes held the faint promise of a sparkle, one that he hadn't seen for so very, very long. “You have to show me how to get here, and I have to get some things to clean...” She resolutely did not look back to the front corner, but he caught the hitch in her voice and the way she had to force the lightness back in. “And we'll need some new curtains... maybe I'll let you nail these down to keep any prying eyes out... and-”

 

He stopped her with a kiss. “Sweetheart, I can do all that and more with the wave of my hand.” He wished she would acquiesce, wished she would say yes and let him wipe away the evidence of the beating of her father that he'd forgotten was there and make the dingy cabin into a home fit for her.

 

She reached up, kissing the side of his mouth again softly. “But then it would be all yours. I want this to be ours because I worked to clean it, and you found furniture in your shop, and we put it together, well, together.” She caught his eyes, stern and serious. “Magic won't mend our chip, Rumpelstiltskin.”

 

True to her word, Belle had the tiny cabin polished and clean and feeling more like home than either of their Storybrooke houses in less than a week. The first thing they tackled together was the stain on the wall. Side by side they sat, a bucket of warm water and bleach between them, as they scrubbed away each speck of her father's blood. He tried to speak, but she wouldn't let him, crying silently with each swipe of the sponge in her hand. When they were done, when not a fleck or brown or red could be found, she dropped her sponge back in the water. “Tell me again.”

 

His heart beat wildly in his throat, the anguish of the quiet hour by her filly bubbling up in him. “The whole story?”

 

She shook her head, pealing off the heavy kitchen gloves to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “No, the why.”

 

He looked down at his hands, fisting in his lap ineffectually, and licked his lips. So many excuses came to mind, so many things he could tell her. His Belle wanted the truth, however, and that was what she would get. “I-” His voice caught and he cleared his throat, starting again. “I wanted to blame someone else. If I hurt someone else...” He sighed. “It was my fault, what happened to you. I didn't want it to be.”

 

Her chin quivered as the tears fell faster. She nodded, her ponytail bobbing behind her as her face reddened. “You didn't have to hurt him.”

 

He looked at her, wished she would meet his gaze, wishing there was a way to show her how sincerely he wished he could take it back. “No, I didn't.”

 

“Did it make you feel better?” She looked up and away through the still smudged window, watching the dust dance in the sunlight.

 

He hung his head, properly ashamed. “No.” He took a deep breath, searching for courage to say his next words. “No, because I hurt someone you loved, and it didn't change anything. It didn't bring you back.”

 

She didn't look at him, but her hand found his between them, holding tightly.

 

Three days later, that corner had been decorated with a small book shelf and a bright green potted plant. When he looked at it, he couldn't see the shadow of Moe French any longer, and Belle's eyes no longer lingered unless she was choosing a book from the shelf or watering the plant.

 

It was the start of a painful process. A few hours here and there, and she'd had every piece of furniture waxed and polished, the floors refinished, and had the kitchen back in working order. Rumpel did his part, magicking a soft love seat before the fire and finding the softest sheets and a featherbed for the old mattress in the back that Belle insisted on keeping.

 

For each project, there was a hurdle they had to cross beyond the manual labor. Questions about what had happened to her that left her trembling, truths about his former wife that opened woulds he never hoped to revisit. When they cleaned out the cabinets they talked about the few fights they'd had in the Dark Castle. When they cleared out the spider webs in the closets he recounted the number of people he'd turned into snails. When they fixed the broken floorboard in the bathroom she confessed to him that she was deathly afraid of ever being shackled again.

 

There were more tears than he expected, especially on his part, but his Belle, as always, had been right. They were mending the cabin and their relationship bit by bit. It wasn't easy, but it was worth it to see the strained smiles she wore slowly turn into the sparking grin he remembered from their best moments in the Dark Castle.

 

She didn't mid his little spells here and there: one for never ending wood in the fire, a comfort from the Dark Castle that she'd always indulged in, and a few handy flicks of his wrist helped fix some faulty wiring in the stove and refrigerator. She'd even changed her mind about him conjuring furniture once she sat on the soft, wide love seat with him.

 

They started spending more time there when they weren't working once the renovations were done. The moment the Library closed and his shop's door was locked they set out for their small cabin. Though they had yet to use the bedroom, Rumpel knew for certain that Belle washed the sheets once a week and swept it every other day.

 

She had been right, and his heart was never lighter or more content than when he was with her despite the hard conversations that still popped up when they were alone together. His days were filled with the magical needs of the lost souls of Storybrooke and searching for a way around the curse to get to his son. His nights, however, were reserved for the beauty that pulled his humanity out from the place it hid in his soul.

 

She was cuddled against him on their love seat, snuggled between his legs and leaning back on his chest, his head resting against the padded arm. It was starting to snow outside, a light dusting already sticking to the edges of the window. “Perhaps we should head home, love.”

 

Belle shifted, twisting to lean sideways into his chest, his arm wrapping tight around her. “It's too early to leave yet.”

 

He kissed her forehead, relishing the quiet calm of the cabin that made them so comfortable. “Early, yes, but it's also snowing. If the storm is coming in this early, we may get stuck.”

 

Belle made a noise halfway between a purr and a groan. “But then we'll be stuck at home for a whole day, or the whole weekend, and we have this lovely fire...” He couldn't help but agree. He let his hand play in her hair, sliding through the strands and laying them softly across her shoulder. “Can I tell you something?” Her lips were pursed, her voice warm and soft and he could tell the two glasses of wine she'd had were playing into her words.

 

“Of course,” he replied softly, cradling the back of her head.

 

“This place is the best thing you've ever done for me. For us. We're different people here. I don't... I haven't figured out how I feel about that, that we're not the same people alone, together that we are in front of the rest of the town, but this feels... real. It's us.”

 

His fingers gently massaged the back of her neck. “I'd do anything for you.”

 

Belle reached out and pulled his other hand between hers and toyed with his fingers. Like this, wrapped up in each other, it was easy to forget the world, to feel as safe as she had with him the Dark Castle. “I'm going to tell you a secret, and I don't want you to take it the wrong way.” She took a deep breath, smiling when his awkward embrace tightened around her, bracing himself for another hard moment. Her words left him reeling. “You make me feel powerful. You are the most powerful man in our world. Probably this world or any other, too. But you've given me power over you. All I need to do is ask and it'll be done...anything will be done, really. You tell me the truth now and I don't have to second guess you. I can trust you, completely. And you've given that power freely. I haven't taken it, you've given it...” Belle turned over, his arm sliding beneath her as she slid closer to him. “It's an amazing gift to be able to trust you. To be able to trust now that when I ask you not to turn someone into snails, that you won't.”

 

He smiled softy, drifting his fingers from her hair to play across her back. Her confession made him feel more powerful than any magic ever would. He smirked, letting magic loose to a tiny purple cloud at his fingertips as he held them up. “But I could.”

 

She blew across his fingers, the magic disappearing into thin air. “But you could, and if I ever asked it, you would. And knowing that? Knowing what you've done to turn the world inside out to find your son?” She sighed. “I know it's wrong, I know it's wrong to admire that after everything we've been through, but a part of me does. A part of me loves it because it shows how loyal and loving you are, how dedicated you are. A part of me loves that, no matter what, I love a man who loves me back and not only does he want to protect me, he is willing and able to do whatever it takes to do it.”

 

“Always, Belle.” He leaned down, kissing her softly.

 

She smiled, her eyes looking toward the ceiling. “So, then...”

 

He nodded, wrapping her tight in his arms. “So then we'll stay. Get snowed in. For the weekend, at least.”

 

She shimmied to her belly, crawling up the last inches that put them even. “If it's bad enough, we may have to take off Monday, too.”

 

He couldn't resist, he kissed her deeply at the thought of the two of them snuggled in the soft bed. “Perhaps the whole week off.”

 

She moaned in agreement, her lips still against his. “Then we might as well stay through next weekend...”

 

He pulled his head back, looking deeply into her eyes. “This is our home, Belle. Ours. We may never leave again.”

 

The soft look in her eyes was all he needed to know that he'd finally said the right thing.   


End file.
